


trust me

by mickyy



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: BAMF Shawn Spencer, Gen, does this count as whump, i think it does, injured Carlton Lassiter, quarantine has done horrible things to my sleep schedule, yes i am posting this at 3am, yes i wrote this because i need more content of Shawn with a gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickyy/pseuds/mickyy
Summary: Carlton Lassiter has made many enemies. What happens when they go after him and the only person he has by his side is Shawn Spencer?
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter & Shawn Spencer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 141





	trust me

Carlton Lassiter did not trust Shawn Spencer, not ever. That was obvious—he let the man-child know what he thought of him every time he got the chance. But now, well…Lassiter would have to revise that statement, just a tad. 

Carlton Lassiter did not trust Shawn Spencer, unless he was bleeding from a gunshot wound to the shoulder and he was surrounded by hostiles targeting him specifically and Spencer was the only person he had with him. And even then, it was a trial run. But Carlton was losing a lot of blood, and while he probably had enough ammo to tag each of these guys at least once, his vision was going fuzzy and his hands were shaking. 

Shawn was ripping his (Guster’s) button-up into pieces so he could bandage the wound. “Okay, Lassie-frass,” he was whispering, “please don’t shoot me while I administer a rudimentary level of first aid.”

“What’s…what’s with all th’ big words?” Carlton slurred. His grip on his gun tightened when Shawn applied pressure. 

“I was distracting you, and you didn’t shoot me, so it worked.” He looked a Lassiter with an unreadable expression. “What’s our next move?” 

“We have to…hold our position. Good vantage point but—but s’easy to corner us,” Carlton panted. 

“We’re literally in a corner, Lass, maybe that’s why?” He gave Shawn a look and he put his hands up. “Fine. How do you plan on fending them off when you’re barely coherent?”

Carlton Lassiter did _not_ trust Shawn Spencer. Except maybe when he’d already saved his life once. “If anything happens t’ my gun,” he warned, gripping it by the barrel and holding it shakily out to Spencer, “you’re m’next target practice.” Shawn took the gun gently. 

“Lassie,” he started, putting a hand on his chest and acting very touched, “I can’t do anything with an empty gun.” Carlton huffed and slowly reached for the extra rounds he always kept on him. Three. Might last until backup arrived, if backup arrived. Shawn loaded the gun under Lassie’s watchful but lethargic eye, then stopped. “Put your back to the corner, I have an idea.”

Lassiter was too tired to argue. He propped himself up against the wall. Shawn scooted closer until he was covering him with his body. “Spencer, no way, you—“

“Haven’t been shot yet, so I figured I’d make a decent human shield.”

“I can’t _see_ —“

“Just focus on staying awake.”

“Shawn—“ Spencer sat bolt upright, aimed, and shot quicker than Lassie knew what was going on. A man fell from behind a tall stack of something with a bullet hole right in between his eyes. “Shit, you’re a helluva shot!” 

“And you wonder why I’ve been trying to get you to issue me a gun all these years,” Spencer quipped. He was forcing it, and his voice was shaking. He’d just killed a man for the first time. 

“S’ different when’t’s someone else who put th’body there,” Carlton mumbled. Spencer nodded. “I can take th’ gun—“

“The fact that you trusted me enough to give me your gun and protect you while you’re down is…shit, Carlton, I’m gonna get us out of here. I will. And I will shoot every son of a bitch who wants to hurt you.” 

“That was…s’prisingly not sarcastic, Spence’.” Carlton supposed that, just maybe, he wasn’t the _worst_ person to be stuck with in a building full of ex-cons who were out specifically for his blood. Guster was. In fact, he was almost touched (clearly the blood loss was getting to him).

There was a _clank_ somewhere to their left. Shawn sat up straight and aimed. Despite the danger he was in, Lassiter couldn’t help but marvel at how still Spencer could sit when he had to. It was a far cry from the wiggly, constant movement he exhibited at the precinct.

Carlton waited a while, then said, “Maybe it was a rat?” Shawn hummed in reply, still not moving. Lassiter let his eyes close, just for a moment, because his eyelids were _heavy_ and if he could _just_ have a _second_ —

_Bang.  
Bang._

While he was prying his eyes open, Lassiter heard two more thuds as something heavy—presumably bodies—hit the floor. Shawn took a shaky breath in. 

“L’emme have—“

“I have killed three men for you, Carlton Fernando Lassiter,” Shawn announced in a voice that was no less shaky than his breathing, “and I will kill more if I have to, for as long as it takes someone to find us.” That was a lot of bravado, but Lassiter knew Shawn would keep pulling the trigger if her had to. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so much respect for the fake psychic. 

“S’not Fernando, Sp—“ Shawn shushed him. 

He perked up, and a few seconds later, Carlton heard sirens. “Oh, thank _fuck_ , I really don’t want to kill anyone else.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2am so it isn't _great_ but it is functional and half decent i think :)


End file.
